


Bad Habits

by carbonatedblood



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Broken Promises, Drabble, Gen, Guilt, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, i guess, me? projecting onto fictional characters again???? maybe... haha yeah, vent??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carbonatedblood/pseuds/carbonatedblood
Summary: so now i'm drinkin' pitt cola with some whiskey and a soda i've been sippin' since 10 AM. and every morning i wake up, i just wanna give up, but i guess i gotta deal with it.
Kudos: 25





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> title and summary from fidlar's Bad Habits-- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSGbqQ6JooY  
> tw for emetophobia + alcohol consumption

Drinking alone was nothing like it was in the movies. at least- not for Stanley Pines. 

Instead of making out with a hot stranger in your friend’s friend’s mansion not caring who saw, it was doubt. realization. guilt. repeat. doubt. realization. guilt. repeat. doubt. realization. guilt. _**Shut up, Stanley, or dad is gonna hear you- that is, if he doesn’t notice that his new whiskey bottle is already half-empty first**_

It wasn’t dancing like nobody’s watching. It was vomiting in the shower asking himself **_why_** ; why’d he give in? **_You were sober for six months, Stanley, and life was just fine. Was this really all it took to drive you over the edge? You’re becoming your father, Stanley._**

He was barely able to process his thoughts. **_What if sixer saw you like this, Stanley? What’d he say?_**

Doubt. Realization. Guilt. Repeat.

Not shameless fun and funny stories. Sickly feelings and urges to hurt. Not just anybody, for once- not his father or Crampelter or whoever dared so much as look at his brother the wrong way. He wanted to hurt himself for fucking up so badly. for drinking again when _**you promised sixer you’d never do it again, Stanley.**_ For doing the _**one thing you promised YOURSELF you’d never do again. You don’t even like the feeling.**_ For the fact that _**you’re barely 15, Stanley. You shouldn’t already be taking to your father’s drinking habit. Wait until you’re 17, at LEAST.**_

_**Oh.** _

_**Wait.** _

_**Too late.  
It’s too late to go back, Stanley. You’ve really fucked up this time. A broken nose can heal, but a broken man can’t.** _

Doubt.

_**You’re the problem, Stanley- not the addiction that runs in your family, if it were that, god knows sixer would’ve been dead thanks to alcohol poisoning by now. It’s not your dad’s fault for leaving the alcohol cabinet wide open- you’re the one who picked the lock.** _

Realization.

_**You wanted to protect your brother from your father, even if it killed you, and now you’re becoming the very thing you despise. For what? For a short-lived buzz? You know you feel like shit after those initial few minutes, Stanley, so why do you bother to drink so much despite it? Do you WANT to hurt your brother? Hell, you better- for your sake -Because how do you think he’s gonna feel when he comes home to you, passed out on the concrete, nose bloody and chin not only bruised but indented with the pattern of the ridges of dad’s “lucky” ring? He’s gonna hate you, Stanley, and this time, it’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.** _

Guilt.

Drinking alone wasn’t like the movies. It wasn’t laying in bed, content for once in his goddamned life, his favourite rock & roll record playing in the background. It was full realization of the painful truths he’d been trying so hard to repress, despite initially doubting and mistrusting them. It was guilt. Guilt that burned a hole in his chest quicker than the bourbon he’d been drinking for the past god-knows-how-long. 

It was thinking that maybe, his parents would be happier with an only child. He and ~~Six~~ Stanford both knew that their parents had never intended to have twins, anyways. Maybe they’d lighten up if they only had to deal with one half of the pair; the smart half. the honest half. The half that could _**keep a fucking promise, Stanley.**_ The half that despite the constant harassment for his extra digits, managed to not only push through it all but maintain straight-As and a clean nose. 

The half that wasn’t a fucking failure.


End file.
